Inner Demons
by Malvolia
Summary: Cordelia is having visions of demonic activity that may pose a major threat to Angel. Meanwhile, someone or something inside her mind is waking up.... Set in the latter part of season one.
1. The Vision

When he first heard the voices, he thought they must be his own. He could not be sure, since he could not remember what his own voice sounded like. Although perhaps this should have been a distressing realization, it was not. He did not seem able to feel anything, even on the emotional level. On the physical level, he felt absolutely nothing. It was as if there was nothing to be felt. The voices were his only link to the outside world, for he had soon become aware that they were not speaking his thoughts. Even the voices came and went sporadically, as if he were drifting in and out…of what? A few of the voices were familiar, but there was one voice in particular that came more frequently than the rest. He began to anticipate it, often waiting impatiently for the silence to be broken. There was something special about this voice. Sometimes it seemed he could almost feel it: the flow of air, the vibrations, the variations in tone and pitch. Once, it occurred to him that he loved the voice. He did not know why; he could not remember what it meant to love. He only knew that he felt a sense of belonging when he heard it speak, and a sense of elation when he heard it laugh. The screams were something else entirely.

* * *

"What is _taking _you so long?"

"Sorry, sorry...I can't find anything in these drawers."

"Now is _not_ the time to be making snide comments on my organizational skills," Cordelia growled. She was sitting on the couch with her knees pressed into her body and her arms holding her head in a vice-like grip. "And Angel can always find them."

"Well, Angel's not here now," said Wesley. "And I'm doing the best I can."

"I'm beginning to see why Doyle was at the pub so much," Cordelia muttered between clenched teeth.

"Found it!" Wesley emerged triumphantly from behind Cordelia's desk, flourishing a bottle of extra-strength pain medication.

Cordelia looked up. "Oh…nice…it's doing me _so _much good from over there."

"Sorry," Wesley said again, opening the bottle as he hurried over to the couch. He shook two pills into his hand and extended them towards Cordelia, then looked over his shoulder, trying to locate the glass of water he knew was around somewhere.

"Two? Yeah, right," she said, snatching the bottle and counting out six pills, which she swallowed without the aid of the water.

"Look now…." Wesley said, then "Oh, I say…."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"What I mean is…don't you ever worry about becoming addicted to these things? Or overdosing?"

"Tell you what," replied Cordelia, slowly easing herself down onto the couch. "When you feel as if someone has taken a jackhammer to your parietal lobe twice in one day, then we'll talk." She grabbed a pillow and held it over her face.

Wesley nodded as sympathetically as he could, then waited expectantly, a pad of paper and a pencil in his hands.

"Some kind of rush of demons," Cordelia said, her voice muffled.

"What kind?" asked Wesley, licking the tip of his pencil and holding it poised over the pad of paper.

"I said 'some kind of rush of demons,'" she repeated, taking the pillow off of her face.

"No, I heard you the first time; I was just asking for clarification."

Cordelia sat up. "You know, I could use some of that myself. But it was just a bunch of demons…it was like watching a series of mug shots being flashed onto the screen of some…demon-hunter Power Point presentation."

Wesley did his best not to look confused and failed. "Um…perhaps the best way to go about this would be for you to describe the demons to me, and then we can better go about our research."

"There were a bunch of vampires," said Cordelia. "I do remember that much." She stopped.

"What?"

"Some of them looked like they were in a lot of pain," Cordelia said. "You don't think this could be dangerous for Angel, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Wesley. "Everything is dangerous for Angel. And it's never stopped him before."

The door to the office swung open to reveal Angel, cleaning blood off of a knife with a large handkerchief.

"You see?" said Wesley, then turned to Angel. "Easy job, I take it?"

"Kaba demon," said Angel. "Just charge them the simple extermination rate, Cordel…." He trailed off as he looked at Cordelia for the first time since he got in. "What happened?"

"Rush o' demons on the way," she summarized.

"Details?"

"Not as such, but I'm working on it."

"Huh. Okay. Keep me posted. I'll be in the basement if you need me," said Angel.

"He certainly is a calm fellow," Wesley said as Angel descended in the elevator.

* * *

Angel was reading in a leather armchair, his feet propped up on the mahogany coffee table in front of him. Cordelia's entrance was quiet, but not quiet enough to elude detection. He had had over two hundred years to develop his senses, and he had made good use of them. He looked up from his book. "Hi," he said, then waited. Two hundred years had cultivated the gift of small talk out of Angel.

"Hey," Cordelia responded, unusually subdued. She sat down in the chair opposite Angel. "Reading, huh?"

"It's a thing I do," replied Angel.

"A lot," she said.

"One of the advantages of living forever," said Angel, "is that you get to put a dent in your reading list." He closed his book and put it on the end table on his right, then folded his arms in a casual way. "What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Cordelia. I know you didn't come down here to discuss classical literature."

Cordelia smiled. "I described the demons I could remember to Wesley, and he's looking them up right now and trying to find connections."

Angel nodded. "Good. I'll come up to take a look myself." He rose from his chair and headed to the elevator, stopping when he realized that Cordelia wasn't following. "You coming?" he asked.

"Actually," she began, then paused. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, warn you about. I don't know..."

He leaned back against the wall and waited. Cordelia never went silent for long. Give her time, and she'd say what was on her mind. Usually, it didn't take too….

"Okay, so in this vision," began Cordelia, "there were a bunch of vampires."

Angel nodded encouragement.

"And they were in pain. Lots of pain."

Again, he nodded.

"Well?" she asked impatiently. "Isn't that at all upsetting for you?"

"You saw me?"

"Not exactly…well, no."

"Then I don't see a problem. We want other vampires to be in pain, right? I mean, we do kill them."

"With stakes!" said Cordelia. "Stakes…and cross-bows…and…and other pointy things! Not with mysterious vision-level evil!"

Angel moved back to his armchair and sat down, leaning forward towards Cordelia. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

She looked up slowly. "It wasn't so much something that was actually _in_ the vision as the feeling that came _with_ the vision. And not just the jackhammer feeling, this time. I got a very strong sense that this thing would hit a lot closer to home than most of our cases do."

"Did you foresee a death?" asked Angel, concerned.

"No," said Cordelia. "I don't know what it meant; I can't even pin down the exact sensation."

"Then I don't see that we have anything more to be worried about than usual," said Angel. "We'll be careful, of course, as always…."

"As support units go, my family pretty much sucked," interrupted Cordelia. "And let's face it, I haven't been too big on making deep social connections myself. Then I come to L.A. to make my own place in the world…and I fall into family almost by accident." She reached out for Angel's hand, and he squeezed hers reassuringly. "I don't want to lose that," she said. "Especially since…."

"Since we haven't been immune to loss," finished Angel, thinking of Doyle.

"Yeah," whispered Cordelia. "Something like that."

"We are a family," said Angel, "and I'm not about to let that go without a fight. But you understand that I can't just sit back and do nothing with the kind of threat that you saw in the vision coming at us."

"I know," said Cordelia. "I just thought _you _should know. You know."

"I think I do," said Angel, with a smile. His smiles had become less rare over the last year. With Cordelia, he had found that he could either spend his days in a constant state of annoyance, or he could try to understand her. Working together had brought them closer, and now he appreciated her for what she was and didn't spend so much time worrying over what she wasn't. Angel had experienced the passion of a lover, but he was finding that the friendship of a sister was more calming. Perhaps it was even more valuable.


	2. The Convergence

They arrived back in the office to find Wesley slumped over the desk with his hands over his head, muttering under his breath.

"Impressive, Wesley," said Cordelia. "You truly sound possessed."

"Wh-what?" said Wesley, jerking his head up so fast that he strained his neck. With a grimace, he began to rub it, asking casually, "What makes you say that?"

"Easy, there, Wes," she said. "Just a joke."

"An extraordinarily poorly timed one," said Wesley, passing a hand over the papers lying on the desk in front of him. "I think I've put a name on the disaster heading our way."

"Do they teach melodrama at Watcher school?" Cordelia asked. "Because I swear, between you and Giles…."

Angel shot a silencing look in her direction, then said to Wesley, "That was fast. What have you found?"

"It was rather fast, wasn't it?" said Wesley, trying not to sound smug. "It was the vampires that tipped me off."

"Vampires were in here?" Cordelia gasped, and was rewarded by a withering glare from Wesley.

"When Cordelia described the demons from her vision," he continued, ignoring the question, "she specifically mentioned that there were a lot of vampires. Considering the veritable smorgasbord of demon races that appeared in the vision, why would there be such a disproportionate amount of vampires?"

"Something's hunting them in particular, and taking out whatever other demons it meets along the way," Angel said, an unwanted image of the Slayer flashing into his mind.

"No," said Wesley triumphantly. "No, that's not it at all. I thought so, too, at first, but…have you ever heard of an event called the Convergence?"

"It's a part of many demon religions," said Angel.

"Whoa!" said Cordelia. "Demons have religions?"

"Sure," said Angel. "Not that they go to church or anything…. Well, they do, but that's almost always messy."

"From my research," said Wesley, eager to get on with it, "it would seem that many demons believe in a sort of soul-sleep. It's more a life-force than a soul, really; most demons are without souls..." He glanced uneasily at Angel, as if he might have offended him, but Angel returned his look placidly, so Wesley went on. "When a demon is about to die, so the story goes, it may transfer its life-force to a being with a soul…a human. After which, the accounts get a little murky."

"Some believe that the life-force gains control over the host, either gradually or immediately," Angel filled in. "Others believe that the life-force is forced to lie dormant until the time of Convergence, when all of the dormant life-forces will awaken and return to walk the earth."

"Here's where it gets even murkier," said Wesley. "Again, some say the life-force claims the host, but some say that it must transfer to a new host, preferably a non-human host."

"Good news….?" prompted Cordelia.

"A few sources I've found argue that circumstances determine how the life-force will be distributed," said Wesley. "In other words, if there is no non-human host available, then the human host is essentially killed, becoming the new body for the demon life-force."

"Okay," said Cordelia. "Way confused. Vampires come into the picture where?"

"Vampires are preferred hosts, because the demon life-force needs a blood link to travel from one host to another. So when the vampire attacks the human host, the demon life-force is freed. An unfortunate side effect for the host, be it human, vampire, or otherwise, is that the demon takes complete control. There are no known cases of reassertion of the original being." He almost added, "On the plus side, human bodies are easier to kill," but decided that wasn't a very big plus, after all.

"Okay, so let me see if I've got this," said Cordelia. "Basically, we've got a bunch of demon souls in hibernation ready to insert themselves into the first walking zombie they see, and if they don't find one, then the human host is the one to go kerblooey?" She thought it was a pretty good summary, herself, but she was surprised at the reactions of the others.

Wesley's mouth was alternately gaping and pursing in a ridiculous fashion. Angel's expression, while more dignified about it, managed to register about the same level of shock.

"What?" she asked. "Is that the right answer?"

"Cordelia," began Angel, then stopped. "I don't even know what that _was_."

"I thought it was pretty straightforward," she said, a little offended. "Honestly, you and fish-face here are usually much quicker than…."

"No, I mean, I don't even know what _language_ it was," Angel interrupted.

"English!" snapped Cordelia.

"Most definitely _not_," said Wesley, regaining his self-possession upon being called "fish-face."

"Likely not even human," said Angel.

"What are you saying?" Cordelia asked nervously.

"I think you were speaking a demon dialect," said Angel gently.

"But I don't _know_ any demon dialects," retorted Cordelia.

"That's what's worrying me."

"It is possible, of course," said Wesley, clearing his throat awkwardly, "that Cordelia herself…."

"Is a demon?" she finished indignantly. "Like your stint as a 'rogue demon hunter' makes you some kind of expert? I am so non-demon... Have you ever seen a demon who dresses this well? Okay, _besides_ Angel…."

"That's not what I'm trying to say at all," said Wesley, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I was merely going to suggest the possibility that you have been possessed by a demon."

"Oh. That's all," said Cordelia. "And here I thought it was going to be something _bad_."

"She hasn't been acting like a demon," said Angel thoughtfully.

Wesley muttered something that sounded like, "Not usually, anyway," which he covered up with a coughing fit when Cordelia glared at him.

"I think I have a Revealing spell in my library somewhere," said Angel. "I'll go look for it. Wesley, you dig up everything you can on the Convergence. We need to know how soon to expect it." He headed for his inner office, turning back to add, "Oh, and knowing _what_ to expect would be nice, too."

"'In his library somewhere,'" said Cordelia. "We're lucky his library is a fairly modest one of only two zillion books, then, aren't we?"

"While he's looking for the spell, you can look this up in every dictionary of demon dialects we have," said Wesley, jotting a few lines onto a piece of paper.

"I said this?" She turned the paper around in her hands. "Which way is up?"

Wesley took the paper, drew a few lines on it, and returned it to her. "The arrow points 'up.'"

Cordelia frowned. "You know, on second thought, I'm just going to go home and get some rest."

"Are you sure that's altogether wise?" asked Wesley.

"Here's my reasoning," retorted Cordelia promptly, as if she had been prepared for his objection. "If I _have_ been possessed by a demon, it's probably been for a little while now. It certainly didn't happen since I've been here. Anyway, I haven't gone wiggy so far. It's gonna take Angel about three years to find that spell. And with two bone-crunching visions in one day, I'm exhausted."

Wesley remained unconvinced. "You could stay in Angel's apartment for now," he said. "Just in case."

"Honestly, Wesley..." Cordelia sighed. "Look, I'll update Phantom Dennis on the situation, and he can call you if anything goes wrong."

"Your ghost roommate? He can use a phone?"

"Well, more like dial and then bang the phone against the table several times," said Cordelia. "But it'll be good enough for a signal, anyway."

Wesley grudgingly agreed, seeing that Cordelia was determined. "But see that you call us if anything..._suspicious_ starts happening," he called after her as she left the office.

* * *

"How long have I been living alone?" Cordelia asked aloud as she walked into her apartment. "And not setting the house on fire, or chopping my fingers off with pointy knives, and _not_ being killed by roving demons who stalk by night. I am _not _a child."

Talking of demons reminded her of her current, yet still unproven, predicament. When had she been in close enough contact with a demon that she might have been possessed? If she were possessed by a demon, wouldn't she have known about it before now? How did demons go about possessing people, anyway? It was all very confusing, and it was making her even more tired than she had already been. But it was still pretty early; there was no way she was going to turn all grandmotherly and go to bed before 10 PM. She lay down on her couch and flipped on the TV. Naps while watching TV didn't count as sleeping.

* * *

Wesley stuck his head into Angel's office. "You'd better take a look at this."

"What is it?" asked Angel.

"My research indicates that the re-assertions of the demon life-forces are staggered; they won't occur all at the same moment in time. However," Wesley added, clearing his throat, "my sources also indicate that the time of the Convergence begins, approximately, now." He looked over at Angel, who was rubbing his temples as if it would help his concentration. "The Powers That Be don't believe in a lot of advance warning, do they?"

"They're not really so much into that, no," said Angel.

"There's another thing you should be aware of," added Wesley. "At first I'd thought that the transfer of the demon life-force from one host to another meant the death of the second host only," he said. "But there was an error in my reasoning. You see, the transfer takes a bit of time to take effect, so if the second host is a vampire…."

"Then the first host could conceivably be drained dry before the feeding is interrupted by the assertion of the demon life-force," finished Angel.

"Or the newly liberated demon life-force finds itself inside a vampire's body, hungry, with dinner readily available, yes."

"But didn't you say that the life-force will take over the first host if it can't find a second one?"

"Yes," said Wesley. "It would seem that exorcism would be the safest solution all around, but how are you going to find every demon that has gone into hibernation? No one has even found _one_ demon in hibernation before."

Angel bowed his head in frustration. Wesley began thinking dismal, apocalyptic thoughts. Then Angel looked up. "Maybe someone _has_ detected a hibernating demon before it fully asserted itself," he said. "Maybe we just did."

"In Cordelia?" choked Wesley. "Oh, dear. There was...one more detail I forgot to mention previously. As it happens, the demon life-force does not placidly await the arrival of a host. Once the life-force begins the process of awakening, it uses some form of telepathic connection to draw potential hosts to itself. Anyone carrying an awakening demon life-force would, in essence, be summoning every soulless creature within a radius of several miles."

"Get yourself some weapons," ordered Angel. "We have to warn Cordelia, and we'd better be prepared for anything."


	3. The Transfer

When the pounding on the door began, Cordelia almost fell off the couch. Her headache, which had been slowly easing away, returned with a sudden rush. She jumped up, which only made things worse. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," she muttered as she rushed to the door and flung it open. "_What_?" she snapped at Angel and Wesley.

Angel pushed past her and began searching her apartment, cautious and alert. Wesley put an arm around Cordelia and led her back to the couch, where they sat down.

"There's been an interesting twist," he started to explain.

Then Cordelia noticed that both he and Angel were carrying crossbows, and that Wesley's jacket pockets were bulging with what appeared to be vials of holy water, packets of crushed leaves, and five or six votive candles.

Angel returned. "No one here but Phantom Dennis. Who was going through your closet, by the way."

"I warned him about that!" Cordelia said. "Knock it off!" she yelled toward the bedroom. "I know some exorcists!"

"None of this is to the point at hand," said Wesley, eager to get on with his explanation.

"Let's back to the office," Angel intervened. "All of us. We'll explain on the way."

* * *

"So to sum up," Cordelia said, "I'm a demon magnet."

"That's a bit of an oversimplification," objected Wesley.

"Not by much," Angel said. Wesley shot him a dirty look, and the vampire shrugged. "Just saying."

"Hey, no big deal," said Cordelia. "Just make it stop. I have complete and total faith in you guys. Exorcise me."

"Exorcism is not something to be done lightly," said Wesley. "There aren't many one-size-fits-all exorcism spells. Our first priority is to determine the type of demon that is inhabiting you. Even once we have that information, exorcism is a dangerous procedure."

"Yet still not as dangerous as 'kerblooey.'"

"If there is anything else you can let us know about the demon…." said Angel.

"You want me to channel a demon? Um, no! Just give me those demon-dictionary-things and that gibberish I was speaking and let's all get to work. Come on. Hurry." She looked hesitantly into the worried faces of her friends. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"I'm getting a tape recorder," said Wesley, going to one of Cordelia's desk drawers.

"No rush," said Cordelia. "I'll just stand here speaking in demon. Wesley, has any demon ever told you you're the biggest geek on the planet?"

"Not so far," Wesley responded. "But there's still time for that."

"It would be really nice to know when this thing switches on and off." Cordelia felt her throat as if that was where the presence was located.

Angel handed her a dictionary. "Find out what it is, and we'll switch it off for you."

"Wait, what are you guys doing?"

"Finding a way to protect the other several million people in this city," said Wesley, "and potentially the world."

"Ah, prioritizing," said Cordelia, sitting at her desk with the dictionary and the demon transcription in front of her. She turned the paper so the arrow pointed away from her. "I see. Don't mind me, then. I'll be fine. Oh, and if you find my mutilated remains, I want Angel to have my library."

"You mean your romance novels?" asked Angel skeptically.

"Or not."

"If anyone comes in, let us know," said Angel.

"I think you'll hear the screaming," she said.

Wesley and Angel retreated to the inner office to review books of ancient lore. Cordelia was left to wade through the dictionary, but she found it very hard to concentrate.

* * *

It was the strongest sensation he had felt within memory. If one could call it memory at all. A deep sense of need assailed him from within and without. The Voice was in trouble. It was his fault, or at least it was partly his fault. He had begun to assert himself. He now knew that he was a prisoner to the Voice—no, _within_ the Voice, of course, not _to_ it. It had been odd to hear another voice, and to know that voice was his. It was empowering.

But he didn't want to hurt the Voice. He didn't want to stop it. The need from without warned him against taking over. The need from within told him that it was his only chance to survive. It was the second need that he felt growing steadily stronger, pulsing out in waves so great that he surprised himself. And as the need grew, his sense of consciousness grew. And as he became more aware of himself, he began to remember. The first thing he remembered was her face.

* * *

"Cordelia!"

She jerked awake. "I wasn't asleep. I was thinking."

"Your 'thinking' was getting too loud for _us_ to think," said Wesley. "Not making much progress, are you?"

"I'm a little too tired to deal with you," Cordelia said. "I know the world is in some major trouble, but I've had a vision headache, I've found out I'm demon-life-force-possessed and a walking magnet for more 'living' demons, I've been drudging through this awful, awful book..." She began to cry. "I feel like my head is going to explode, and it doesn't make it any better that an exploding head is a clear and present danger right now."

Wesley watched in shock. Cordelia's tears did not come easily. He didn't know what to do. Angel came out of his office, took one look at Cordelia, and went to stand by her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. She sobbed even harder at that, and leaned against him as if he were her only source of strength.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We've been working you too hard. You can't handle this now."

"I'm so tired," she moaned, "and my head hurts, and demon dialects are so hard to decipher, and I don't want to die!"

Angel helped her to her feet and to the office couch. "Lay down and get some rest. Wesley, find a way to stop the Convergence. I'll find the dialect Cordelia is speaking." He glanced down at their colleague, huddled on the couch. "After I get her a cup of tea."

"Tea doesn't fix everything, Angel," she said, but she felt a little better nonetheless.

Which didn't explain why, after Wesley and Angel had left the room, Cordelia got up, crept to the door, and left the office without a sound.

* * *

He knew what he was doing, he thought uneasily. He had begun to think again. He knew what was happening. His sense of self-preservation told him he needed to be away from the other two voices when it happened. But when it happened, the owner of the Voice should not be in a dangerous place. Delicately, he planted the suggestion to her. _Go home_.

* * *

Cordelia was awakened by a knock on the door. She found herself in her apartment, with all of the lights off. As she lay trying to sort out why she was there at all, there was another knock. "That must be Angel," she mumbled, bringing herself to a sitting position and massaging the kink in her neck. "It must have been a dream, then. You can just come right in," she called, switching on the lamp next to the couch. "Oh, wait, that's right...I forgot. I was going to get you an extra key," she said conversationally, moving to the door, "so you can water my plants and stuff if I ever get to go on a vacation or something…." She trailed off as she opened the door. The man standing there was not Angel. He was attractive, but he was probably just some door-to-door salesman or Jehovah's Witness or something. "I'm sorry," Cordelia smiled. "I thought you were someone else."

The man did not smile back. His eyes were fixed straight ahead of him, as if he could not see her at all. "Kill me," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Cordelia.

"Now. Before it's too late."

"Listen," said Cordelia, concerned, "whatever it is you're going through, there are people who can help. And I mean _whatever_ it is. In fact, I work for an organization that specializes in…helping. I have a business card somewhere…."

"You don't understand," said the man, with increased urgency. In one fluid motion, he stepped into the apartment and backed Cordelia into a wall. His right hand held her neck tightly, and a horrified Cordelia found herself looking into the eyes of a vampire. "You invited me in."

There was no time for a struggle. Cordelia had seen vampires, she had seen pictures of their victims, but even in her worst Sunnydale nightmares she had never imagined that the pain of the attack would be so intense, like fire shooting through her body. She tried to push the vampire away, but he had the advantage of position and size. Then came a surge of energy, as if an electric charge were pulsing along the current of blood. She screamed, and as she felt herself losing consciousness, she felt the fangs pull back, saw the vampire recoil, and had a glimpse of the look of agony she had seen on so many faces in her vision before her eyes closed. She could hear the sound of blood rushing in her ears, and then she heard the sound of a voice.

"Saints above! Cordelia?"

"Angel," she sighed, and then the sounds stopped.


	4. The Demon

They arrived back in the office to find Wesley slumped over the desk with his hands over his head, muttering under his breath.

"Impressive, Wesley," said Cordelia. "You truly sound possessed."

"Wh-what?" said Wesley, jerking his head up so fast that he strained his neck. With a grimace, he began to rub it, asking casually, "What makes you say that?"

"Easy, there, Wes," she said. "Just a joke."

"An extraordinarily poorly timed one," said Wesley, passing a hand over the papers lying on the desk in front of him. "I think I've put a name on the disaster heading our way."

"Do they teach melodrama at Watcher school?" Cordelia asked. "Because I swear, between you and Giles…."

Angel shot a silencing look in her direction, then said to Wesley, "That was fast. What have you found?"

"It was rather fast, wasn't it?" said Wesley, trying not to sound smug. "It was the vampires that tipped me off."

"Vampires were in here?" Cordelia gasped, and was rewarded by a withering glare from Wesley.

"When Cordelia described the demons from her vision," he continued, ignoring the question, "she specifically mentioned that there were a lot of vampires. Considering the veritable smorgasbord of demon races that appeared in the vision, why would there be such a disproportionate amount of vampires?"

"Something's hunting them in particular, and taking out whatever other demons it meets along the way," Angel said, an unwanted image of the Slayer flashing into his mind.

"No," said Wesley triumphantly. "No, that's not it at all. I thought so, too, at first, but…have you ever heard of an event called the Convergence?"

"It's a part of many demon religions," said Angel.

"Whoa!" said Cordelia. "Demons have religions?"

"Sure," said Angel. "Not that they go to church or anything…. Well, they do, but that's almost always messy."

"From my research," said Wesley, eager to get on with it, "it would seem that many demons believe in a sort of soul-sleep. It's more a life-force than a soul, really; most demons are without souls..." He glanced uneasily at Angel, as if he might have offended him, but Angel returned his look placidly, so Wesley went on. "When a demon is about to die, so the story goes, it may transfer its life-force to a being with a soul…a human. After which, the accounts get a little murky."

"Some believe that the life-force gains control over the host, either gradually or immediately," Angel filled in. "Others believe that the life-force is forced to lie dormant until the time of Convergence, when all of the dormant life-forces will awaken and return to walk the earth."

"Here's where it gets even murkier," said Wesley. "Again, some say the life-force claims the host, but some say that it must transfer to a new host, preferably a non-human host."

"Good news….?" prompted Cordelia.

"A few sources I've found argue that circumstances determine how the life-force will be distributed," said Wesley. "In other words, if there is no non-human host available, then the human host is essentially killed, becoming the new body for the demon life-force."

"Okay," said Cordelia. "Way confused. Vampires come into the picture where?"

"Vampires are preferred hosts, because the demon life-force needs a blood link to travel from one host to another. So when the vampire attacks the human host, the demon life-force is freed. An unfortunate side effect for the host, be it human, vampire, or otherwise, is that the demon takes complete control. There are no known cases of reassertion of the original being." He almost added, "On the plus side, human bodies are easier to kill," but decided that wasn't a very big plus, after all.

"Okay, so let me see if I've got this," said Cordelia. "Basically, we've got a bunch of demon souls in hibernation ready to insert themselves into the first walking zombie they see, and if they don't find one, then the human host is the one to go kerblooey?" She thought it was a pretty good summary, herself, but she was surprised at the reactions of the others.

Wesley's mouth was alternately gaping and pursing in a ridiculous fashion. Angel's expression, while more dignified about it, managed to register about the same level of shock.

"What?" she asked. "Is that the right answer?"

"Cordelia," began Angel, then stopped. "I don't even know what that _was_."

"I thought it was pretty straightforward," she said, a little offended. "Honestly, you and fish-face here are usually much quicker than…."

"No, I mean, I don't even know what _language_ it was," Angel interrupted.

"English!" snapped Cordelia.

"Most definitely _not_," said Wesley, regaining his self-possession upon being called "fish-face."

"Likely not even human," said Angel.

"What are you saying?" Cordelia asked nervously.

"I think you were speaking a demon dialect," said Angel gently.

"But I don't _know_ any demon dialects," retorted Cordelia.

"That's what's worrying me."

"It is possible, of course," said Wesley, clearing his throat awkwardly, "that Cordelia herself…."

"Is a demon?" she finished indignantly. "Like your stint as a 'rogue demon hunter' makes you some kind of expert? I am so non-demon... Have you ever seen a demon who dresses this well? Okay, _besides_ Angel…."

"That's not what I'm trying to say at all," said Wesley, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I was merely going to suggest the possibility that you have been possessed by a demon."

"Oh. That's all," said Cordelia. "And here I thought it was going to be something _bad_."

"She hasn't been acting like a demon," said Angel thoughtfully.

Wesley muttered something that sounded like, "Not usually, anyway," which he covered up with a coughing fit when Cordelia glared at him.

"I think I have a Revealing spell in my library somewhere," said Angel. "I'll go look for it. Wesley, you dig up everything you can on the Convergence. We need to know how soon to expect it." He headed for his inner office, turning back to add, "Oh, and knowing _what_ to expect would be nice, too."

"'In his library somewhere,'" said Cordelia. "We're lucky his library is a fairly modest one of only two zillion books, then, aren't we?"

"While he's looking for the spell, you can look this up in every dictionary of demon dialects we have," said Wesley, jotting a few lines onto a piece of paper.

"I said this?" She turned the paper around in her hands. "Which way is up?"

Wesley took the paper, drew a few lines on it, and returned it to her. "The arrow points 'up.'"

Cordelia frowned. "You know, on second thought, I'm just going to go home and get some rest."

"Are you sure that's altogether wise?" asked Wesley.

"Here's my reasoning," retorted Cordelia promptly, as if she had been prepared for his objection. "If I _have_ been possessed by a demon, it's probably been for a little while now. It certainly didn't happen since I've been here. Anyway, I haven't gone wiggy so far. It's gonna take Angel about three years to find that spell. And with two bone-crunching visions in one day, I'm exhausted."

Wesley remained unconvinced. "You could stay in Angel's apartment for now," he said. "Just in case."

"Honestly, Wesley..." Cordelia sighed. "Look, I'll update Phantom Dennis on the situation, and he can call you if anything goes wrong."

"Your ghost roommate? He can use a phone?"

"Well, more like dial and then bang the phone against the table several times," said Cordelia. "But it'll be good enough for a signal, anyway."

Wesley grudgingly agreed, seeing that Cordelia was determined. "But see that you call us if anything..._suspicious_ starts happening," he called after her as she left the office.

* * *

"How long have I been living alone?" Cordelia asked aloud as she walked into her apartment. "And not setting the house on fire, or chopping my fingers off with pointy knives, and _not_ being killed by roving demons who stalk by night. I am _not _a child."

Talking of demons reminded her of her current, yet still unproven, predicament. When had she been in close enough contact with a demon that she might have been possessed? If she were possessed by a demon, wouldn't she have known about it before now? How did demons go about possessing people, anyway? It was all very confusing, and it was making her even more tired than she had already been. But it was still pretty early; there was no way she was going to turn all grandmotherly and go to bed before 10 PM. She lay down on her couch and flipped on the TV. Naps while watching TV didn't count as sleeping.

* * *

Wesley stuck his head into Angel's office. "You'd better take a look at this."

"What is it?" asked Angel.

"My research indicates that the re-assertions of the demon life-forces are staggered; they won't occur all at the same moment in time. However," Wesley added, clearing his throat, "my sources also indicate that the time of the Convergence begins, approximately, now." He looked over at Angel, who was rubbing his temples as if it would help his concentration. "The Powers That Be don't believe in a lot of advance warning, do they?"

"They're not really so much into that, no," said Angel.

"There's another thing you should be aware of," added Wesley. "At first I'd thought that the transfer of the demon life-force from one host to another meant the death of the second host only," he said. "But there was an error in my reasoning. You see, the transfer takes a bit of time to take effect, so if the second host is a vampire…."

"Then the first host could conceivably be drained dry before the feeding is interrupted by the assertion of the demon life-force," finished Angel.

"Or the newly liberated demon life-force finds itself inside a vampire's body, hungry, with dinner readily available, yes."

"But didn't you say that the life-force will take over the first host if it can't find a second one?"

"Yes," said Wesley. "It would seem that exorcism would be the safest solution all around, but how are you going to find every demon that has gone into hibernation? No one has even found _one_ demon in hibernation before."

Angel bowed his head in frustration. Wesley began thinking dismal, apocalyptic thoughts. Then Angel looked up. "Maybe someone _has_ detected a hibernating demon before it fully asserted itself," he said. "Maybe we just did."

"In Cordelia?" choked Wesley. "Oh, dear. There was...one more detail I forgot to mention previously. As it happens, the demon life-force does not placidly await the arrival of a host. Once the life-force begins the process of awakening, it uses some form of telepathic connection to draw potential hosts to itself. Anyone carrying an awakening demon life-force would, in essence, be summoning every soulless creature within a radius of several miles."

"Get yourself some weapons," ordered Angel. "We have to warn Cordelia, and we'd better be prepared for anything."


	5. The Team

"We might have to call in the Slayer," said Angel reluctantly. "This is too big for three…two of us."

"We'll find her," said Wesley.

"But will we find her in time?"

"What _I_ want to know is why you're both wasting time debating this when we have a Convergence to stop!" said Cordelia from the doorway of Angel's office. As the two men rushed to greet her, expressions of concern on their faces, she eased the office door shut behind her.

"I'm fine," she said, as Angel noticed the wound on her neck. "Nothing a Band-Aid and some Neosporin won't cure. And I'm demon-free!"

"Did you kill them?" asked Angel.

"'Them'?"

"The demon-vampire hybrid. Is it dead?"

"It _was_. If you sit down and relax and promise not to shoot pointy things at him, I'll bring him in."

"You brought the vampire here?" gasped Wesley. "Are you possessed? Still?"

Angel made a move for the door, but Cordelia spread her arms across it protectively. "Promise," she demanded. She looked pleadingly at Angel. "I know what I'm doing."

Wesley opened his mouth to protest, but Angel stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"All right," he said to Cordelia. "But if anything goes wrong, I swear I'll kill him."

She opened the door and beckoned to someone on the other side. He entered. "An admirable sentiment, Angel, man," said Doyle. "About killing me and all. No, seriously. I've always appreciated your impulse to protect your friends and colleagues."

Angel stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Wesley moved his hand toward the desk drawer.

"You don't still keep that spare crossbow in there, do you?" asked Doyle. "That would ruin my welcome-home party. And would probably break Cordelia's heart."

"Yes, yes, and no," she said. "Just because we shared one body for a while doesn't mean a thing."

"I like that way of putting it," said Doyle. "'Sharing a body.' Sounds much more exciting than hibernation."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." Doyle grinned at her. She looked to Angel and pointed viciously at the newcomer. "Make him stop!" she implored.

"Doyle," said Angel quietly. "Doyle."

"It's wonderful to see you again, too, old friend. We must swap stories about being dead sometime."

Unexpectedly, Angel reached out for Doyle and hugged him.

"Doyle?" said Wesley. "The dead Doyle? That Doyle?"

"Yep!" said Cordelia, throwing her arms around the two vampires. "The family is back in business!"

Wesley closed the drawer and stared at the group thoughtfully.

"How are you here?" Angel said to Doyle. "We saw you die."

"It's kind of an embarrassin' story."

"You kissed me," said Cordelia in sudden realization.

"I seem to recall that."

"Just before he jumped," she continued, addressing the others. "And while he was kissing me, he must have initiated the life-force transfer, _without_ my consent, by the way," she added, pointing an accusing finger at Doyle. She shook her head. "All this time I thought you were fulfilling your last wish."

"I was," said Doyle. "So I'm a multi-tasker. So what?"

"'So what' is that you had the nerve…."

"Great story," interrupted Angel, who had been exchanging annoyed glances with Wesley. "Answered a lot of burning questions for me. Let's move on, shall we? We have to save the world, and now that Cordelia's problem is solved, I'm sure we can all concentrate better."

"Which means you expect me to pull my weight," said Cordelia.

"It does not," Angel began, but then he saw the challenging look on her face. "Well, among other things, it does mean that."

"I'm okay with that," she said. "Bring it on."

Angel immediately switched to his best delegation mode. "I'm going on patrol. Doyle and Cordelia, research duty. Wesley, you can join them, after you call the Slayer. She needs to be warned."

"I'll call the Watcher's Council, too," said Wesley. "They could be a valuable resource…even if they don't really like me."

"I'm sure they like demons even less," said Angel. "Now let's get to it." And then he turned and was gone.

* * *

"_Demon Lore Through the Ages_; _Legends or Prophecy?: Ancient Warnings_; _The History of Demons, Werewolves, and the Undead_…and it just goes on like this," said Cordelia resignedly. She looked over the stack of books piled onto Angel's desk. "Guess I'll just take this thin one here." She looked up and found Doyle staring at her. "What?"

"I forgot how good you smell."

"I forgot how easily distracted you are," she retorted, thrusting the heavy _Legends or Prophecy?_ into his hands. "If you remember, we're trying to save the world. Again. So you open up your book, and I'll open mine, and we'll do that studying thing we do. Again." She stared at her slim volume ruefully. "I hate this part. I opted out of college for a reason, you know."

"Who's the easily distracted one now?" challenged Doyle.

"Okay, before the studying, I gotta know something." She closed the book suddenly. "Were you spying on me?"

"What?"

"When you were in my head, were you poking about trying to read my thoughts or anything creepy like that?"

"Mostly I was forced to lie dormant," said Doyle. "Which was a shame, because I would have loved to have read those touching passages in your diary pertaining to your sorrow over my demise and your regret that you hadn't let me kiss you sooner, under better circumstances."

"Dormant is good," said Cordelia warily, opening the book again.

"Speaking of better circumstances," he said casually, "would you like to catch a movie with me sometime after we save the world?"

"You have really poor timing," she responded. "Why do you only ask me out when we're on the verge of certain doom?"

He shrugged. "Was that a yes?"

"If it will help you concentrate on the books…sure. If Buffy can date the undead, so can I. For now, back to studying. The Watchers and the Willows of this world have taught me that without research, the earth is doomed."

"You have a gift for motivational speaking."

"Studying now," said Cordelia, lowering her head over the book and trying to make sense of its contents.

"Got it," said Doyle. "Now."

* * *

Wesley knew that the Slayer had a large coterie of friends, but he was a bit taken aback by the answering voice on the other end of the line. "Is this the Summers' residence?"

"Not anymore," said the voice. "They've been hideously murdered in their beds. Call back at a better time."

"Spike!" gasped Wesley in disbelief. "What have you done?" Through the telephone, he heard another voice in the background, and was relieved that it was Buffy's.

"Spike," she said, cool and steely. "What are you doing?"

"Answering the bloody phone. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It's bad enough having you in my house at all. You stay away from my phone."

"What are you going to do?" Spike said in a sultry voice. His voice was coming from further away, as if he had lowered the phone. "Beat it out of me?" Wesley heard a soft thud, a sharp intake of breath, and a muffled curse. Then Buffy came on the line.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Pest control issues."

"Hullo, Buffy, this is Wesley," he sighed. "I'm afraid I only bring news of more pests."


	6. The Vampires

Wesley walked into Angel's office, settled into a chair, grabbed a book, and instantly began poring over it as if he had been there for hours.

"How does he do it?" Cordelia asked aloud.

Wesley looked up. "I beg your pardon?"

She shook her head and changed the subject. "How's Buffy?"

"Good, I suppose. Spike answered the phone."

"Spike?"

"Yes," said Wesley, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It surprised me, too. But perhaps it's something to speak of _after_ we find a way to stop the Convergence."

"Boring ol' Convergence," said Cordelia, holding her book by one cover and swinging it back and forth.

"Cordelia," warned Wesley.

"Sorry." She put the book back on the desk and began studying again.

The phone rang. Cordelia lunged for it. "Angel Investigators, we help the…. It's you! Why are you calling here? How did you get this number?" Her eyes widened. "How dare you call me that?"

Wesley pried the phone out of her hand. "Spike, I presume," he spoke into it.

"You're not the only ones who want to stop the Convergence," answered Spike.

"How did you know….?"

"The Slayer and I are very tight these days. We've really bonded. I help her kill demons, she slaps me around if I get too lippy…it's a magical relationship."

"Spike, I'm quite busy."

"The point is, there aren't many vamps out there who relish the thought of being possessed by other demons. Your problem is that very few will believe in the Convergence at all. It's sort of a bogeyman story—one of the first things a newly sired vampire hears when his superiors are trying to keep him in his place."

"I didn't know vampires scared so easily."

"We don't," Spike replied matter-of-factly. "Hence the failure of the Convergence story. Unless you actually believe it's real. Then you're just royally enraged at the whole idea."

"You believe it?"

"I've been undead for quite a while now. Long enough to know that if something sounds too bad to be true, it's probably true."

"I learned that just from living in Sunnydale," said Wesley.

"There's a contingency plan," Spike continued.

"Does it involve a spell? Some kind of ritual?"

"More like a bunch of vampires joining forces in an effort to beat the living tar out of anyone that crosses them. Oh, and a fast. Can't go around drinking from just anyone these days. Even that pig's blood your nancy friend slurps up could be contaminated."

"Demons in pigs?"

"There _is_ historical precedent for that. I'm surprised that the resident scholar didn't already know it."

"So if you already have a plan, why are you calling me?"

"I wasn't calling for you, Watson," said Spike. "I'm trying to reach your boss. You know, the real brains of the operation?" He laughed. "Sorry, just couldn't say that with a straight face."

"Angel's on patrol."

"Angel's going to the nearest local vampire hideout, is what you mean. He knows this story as well as I do, being the one who first told me, and all. What really kills me is that he wouldn't tell you. Must not trust you as much as I thought he did. Be a good lackey and tell him to look me up if he survives his little outing, will you?" He hung up.

* * *

Angel swung around, pivoting on his left foot as his right leg made for its target. He felt the crunch of bones as he made contact with his opponent's ribcage. The other man grimaced, an expression that was occasionally difficult to discern on a vampire when the impulse to feed was upon it. His last remaining cohort charged Angel from behind, but Angel was ready for him. At the last second, he bent over, causing his attacker to tumble over him and onto the ground. In that moment of vulnerability, Angel took his chance. A stake flashed, a cloud of dust burst, and there were only two vampires left standing. That is, Angel was standing, and the other was cowering. Angel grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him against the dumpster.

"Where is it?" he asked. The other spit at him. Reflexively, Angel's face distorted. "Now you're just making me cranky," he said, mentally trying to calm himself. He was better than this.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Place of Resistance. Where is it?"

"Resistance?"

"Look, I know you probably don't have to _pretend_ to be dumb, but surely you're not dumb enough to overlook the face," said Angel. "I know vampires pretty well. I know there are five major clans in the Los Angeles area alone, and I know that I saw members of at least three of those clans in the group I found you with."

"And?"

"And it was so touching to watch you all chatting pleasantly on this street corner, I was going to book you on my lecture circuit." Angel jerked the other vampire forward and then slammed him back against the dumpster. "Now you can tell me where the Place of Resistance is, or we can stand here and wait for the next demon consciousness to come along. Oh, I forgot. I already have a soul. I'm going to miss out on all the fun. But think what a great story this will make for your memoirs."

* * *

"Of course!" Wesley's sudden exclamation made Doyle and Cordelia both start. He jumped out of his chair and raced out of the room.

Doyle looked at Cordelia. "Is he always like this?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. But not usually _this_ much."

Doyle nodded. After a brief silence, he asked, "Is this the Wesley you used to date?"

Cordelia's eye widened guiltily. "I never…."

Wesley rushed back into the room, flourishing an old book. "The Witch-Demon Riots of 1325! How could I have forgotten?"

"Seriously!" said Cordelia. "Because it's _so_ obvious!"

Wesley paused. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Got a little carried away."

"Just a little," Cordelia agreed.

Wesley set the book down and flipped through its pages as he began his explanation.

"It's common knowledge that witches and demons aren't always the best of friends," he said, ignoring the confused looks from both Cordelia and Doyle. "There have been many little skirmishes between the two groups throughout history. But in Romania in the spring of 1325, three young witches were found dead, their corpses horribly mutilated in such a way that the idea that theirs had been ritual slayings seemed likely, if not probable."

"Why does all the really freaky stuff happen in Romania?" asked Cordelia.

"Boredom, I suspect," offered Doyle. "Have ya ever _been_ to Romania?"

"A witches' tribunal convened that very night, and over the course of the following two weeks they arrived at the conclusion that demons had been responsible for the killings."

"Whoa, whoa," said Cordelia. "It took them two whole weeks to figure that out?"

"There were other options, after all. They may have been having special problems with the demons, but the witches weren't too popular with many other groups of the day, either."

"Imagine that," Doyle said.

"The council intended to spend at least another two weeks debating a course of action," said Wesley. "However, somehow word got out that the demons had been officially condemned for this horrendous act. The sister of one of the victims made a raid on a nearby demon compound and single-handedly killed ten demons before being killed herself. Demons having a much looser justice code than witches, they were not as slow to retaliate."

"So the demons attacked the witches again," said Doyle impatiently. "We get it. When do we get to the part where we stop the Convergence?"

"At first the riots were confined to the maiming, killing, and looting that have historically accompanied riots."

"Hello? We're in L.A., here," said Cordelia. "We know what riots are."

"Then came the first wave of demon possessions," continued Wesley. "Within a few days, 75% of the witches in the area were demon-possessed, and thus aiding the demons in the traditional maiming, killing—"

"The point, man, the point!" erupted Doyle.

Wesley turned another page, drew in his breath sharply, and lifted the book, turning it to face the others. A woodcut illustration showed an overhead view of a group of men and women standing in an elaborate configuration, a chalk diagram on the floor in the center.

"The point is that the end of the Witch-Demon Riots of 1325 came with the creation of the most sweeping exorcism spell ever performed. One that had never been performed before or since: the Rite of Merkoris."

Doyle grinned. "Now we're gettin' somewhere."


	7. The Place of Resistance

The noise of Angel's movements blended with the sounds of the night as he crept through the shadows to the meeting place. Angel always moved silently. Even when he had lived in the (relatively) peaceful Sunnydale, few could hear his approach.

Outside of the raucous Nosferatu Bar & Grill in downtown L.A., nothing could have heard him.

Angel looked up at the glaring neon sign, an image of a bat flapping its wings. "Subtle," he muttered. He pushed open the door. Instantly, the large group inside fell silent and eyed him suspiciously. No one moved.

"Why didn't you just hire a banshee to scream, 'Here they are'?" said Angel.

"Angel!" cried Spike from a corner barstool. "Or should I say Angelus?" He stood up and sauntered to the front of the crowd. "The apocalypse makes friends of us all."

"I don't see why," Angel countered. "It never has before."

"Spoken like a truly jaded…" and Spike leaned in for the last word: "…soul."

"What are you doing here, Spike?"

"Same thing you're doing. Trying to stop the Convergence. Strength in numbers and all that."

"We don't know what having so many vampires together will do," said Angel. "It may only strengthen the draw on the demon life-forces."

"Then it's better that we're all here together, isn't it?" asked another vampire, stepping out from her place in the crowd.

"Yeah. It's like a bloody family reunion," snapped Spike. "Get back, Harm." Harmony did as she was told. "Just what do you think you're going to do here, anyway?" he asked Angel. "Last time I checked, you were killing demons _and _vampires. All you seem to care about anymore are the puny living people. Which makes me think that if it came down to having a vampire possessed by a demon against his will, or having a human explode like a cat in a microwave…."

Another vampire burst through the entrance. "The first wave is coming," he said. "I barely escaped them. The other vampires who were with me weren't so lucky."

"Good work," said Spike. Before anyone knew what was happening, the newcomer had been impaled. When the dust cleared, Spike's weapon was already hidden again. "Demons can lie," he said to Angel, then turned to face the crowd. "As of this instant, no one enters or leaves. Anyone who comes could be demon-possessed already. Anyone who leaves could give away our position." A general murmur of assent came from the assembled group. Some of those who were more hesitant to listen to Spike were "convinced" by the scowls they got from their neighbors.

"Keep the noise level up," Spike reminded. "Looks even more suspicious otherwise. And you!" He pointed to a vampire with traces of blood on his fangs. "I told you to stay away from the meat locker!" He smiled mirthlessly at Angel. "The burdens of command. It's almost like old times."

"But without all of the feeding and the sire-ing."

"All in good time. We can get back to business as soon as this Convergence is over and done with."

"True," said Angel. "Demon possession doesn't stop the desire to feed. Vampires are resilient like that."

"There isn't going to _be_ any demon possession," snarled Spike. "Now shut your yapper before you make the natives restless."

A window across from the bar shattered, showering glass down on the gathering. The hand that stretched through the opening was human. And though the arm was lacerated and bleeding, none of the assembled vampires looked hungry.

* * *

"I don't get it," said Cordelia. "There are, like, 20 people in that picture, and we only have three. Four if Angel ever shows up. Shouldn't we call Buffy and the gang?"

"Buffy's probably dealing with a lot of her own problems," said Wesley. "Sunnydale is the Hellmouth, after all."

"So why is the Convergence not happening there?" asked Cordelia. "Don't tell me the forces of evil lost all sense of direction."

Doyle watched Wesley's face go blank as the latter tried to think of a plausible explanation. "You can say 'I don't know,'" he said. "'Cause you're certainly not going to trick us into thinkin' that you _do_ know."

"Does it really matter why it's happening here?" Wesley asked. "I thought you two wanted to help me to stop it."

"You're in a powerful hurry all of a sudden," said Doyle. "Well, then. Let's get to it."

"The three of us can't do this alone," said Wesley.

"I just said that!" exclaimed Cordelia. "Did I not _just_ say that? Face it, you can't ever admit that I'm right."

"Bigger issues, Cord," warned Doyle.

"The recitation of the spell and the simultaneous movement of those participating in the ceremony are meant to invoke the same sense of cacophony that mass demon possessions would. It can't be performed with three people."

"You're sayin' we're not rowdy enough?" said Doyle.

"To put it crudely, yes."

"So we just go and recruit some more people," suggested Cordelia.

"And no one at all would suspect us of being out of out minds," Wesley said.

"It's L.A. We can say it's an audition for something."

"I'm not sure that would work," mused Wesley. "The very earnestness and urgency of the first enactment of the Rite of Merkoris may have played into its effectiveness. We need true believers."

Cordelia frowned. "Just where are we supposed to find 20 people who have no problems believing in the Convergence?"

* * *

The human male stood in the center of the room, panting. He was only 100, maybe 110 pounds, Angel noticed. Not exactly a force to be reckoned with, under normal circumstances. Tonight, everyone in the room shrank back from him. His eyes were faintly glazed over; Angel sensed that the demon life-force was nearing complete possession. He reached down and picked up a long shard of glass, then traced the point down the left side of his neck, then the right.

At the sight of so much blood falling to the ground, three vampires lost their concentration and slipped into feeding mode. As they leapt at the intruder, Angel expected to see other vampires interfere, but none did. He glanced at Spike, who coolly watched as the three vampires fought over their prize. But when Angel moved to help the human, Spike made a sign to some vampires standing just behind him, who rushed Angel and tackled him to the ground. Two screams erupted from the center of the room. One was the high-pitched shriek of the vampire who had just realized what her victory over the other two meant. Quick to follow was the deep-throated yell of triumph from the demon whose life-force had just been liberated. Both came from the same mouth.

"Remember," rose Spike's voice as the screams died away, "that we could have stopped you from returning to this planet as a being of power. We could have let you remain human. All that much easier for us to deal with, if you chose to side against us."

The demon's voice came once again from the vampire's throat. "I serve myself," it growled.

Spike clapped his hands, and the vampires who were restraining Angel lunged at their former colleague. The crush of bodies made it difficult to see the disappearance of the center vampire.

"You said you were sure that would work, Spike!" cried Harmony.

"I didn't count on it being a Jytir demon," muttered Spike. "Stupid brutes, they are."

"And not that loyal," said Angel, who had risen from the ground as soon as he was released. "Good idea appealing to the sense of self-preservation, though. I'm sure the next demon will take you up on your offer, seeing as how you yourself look so trustworthy."

"You're one to talk," Spike started, but at that moment Angel's cell phone rang.

"Always at the most inconvenient times," he shrugged, reaching into his pocket. "You'll excuse me for a moment, won't you?"

"Angel?" came Cordelia's voice over the line. "Are you alone?"

"Not exactly," said Angel, turning slightly away from Spike, who was openly eavesdropping.

"Good! Are you at that Place of Resistance…place that Spike told us about?"

"That Spike told you about?" Angel repeated. Spike tilted his head and listened harder.

"Anyway, Wesley thinks that vampires would work. I mean, in the ritual we have to do. To end the Convergence?"

"Uh-huh," said Angel, not quite following.

"Give me the phone," came the voice of Wesley faintly. Then he spoke to Angel. "If we have a collection of personages in one room who earnestly desire that the demons _not _take over their world, we can perform the Rite of Merkoris. We don't have enough people here, but vampires may work just as well. Here is how the ritual works…."

"Hold on a second," said Angel. He covered the mouthpiece of the phone. "Anyone have a pen and paper?"

Spike looked at him incredulously. "What for, writing our grocery lists?"

"For exorcising a few demons," Angel replied.

Spike shrugged and glanced back at the crowd of vampires. "Anybody?" he asked.

Harmony pushed her way forward again. "Here's an order tablet and a pencil," she said. "I found it behind the bar."

"Well, bravo for you, Harm," said Spike, snatching the proffered items and handing them to Angel. "Back in line."

"Okay." Angel balanced the cell phone on his shoulder and held pencil and paper ready. "Shoot." He scribbled down the diagram that Wesley described and the incantations that he read.

"We're going to try to reach you," said Wesley. "We have more elaborate information than you can get over the phone."

There was a hammering on the door. "No!" said Angel. "Stay where you are. The odds that you'd reach the place alive aren't good. We'll give it our best shot." The door began to shake. "And we'd better do it as soon as possible." He hung up and turned to Spike. "Now, I know you might not like…."

"What's the plan?" said Spike unexpectedly. The two vampires locked eyes, and Angel nodded in acknowledgment of the sudden truce. He handed the papers to Spike and called to the room in general, "We need something to mark the floor with. Any chalk around here?"

* * *

"I don't like this _sitting_," said Cordelia. "I'm not used to sitting."

Doyle uttered a mild oath and slammed the cabinet door. "Not a drop of alcohol in the whole place."

Wesley alone remained unnerved. He was still poring over the pages of a book, trying to find back-up plans in case the Rite of Merkoris fell through. "You two could be occupying your time with more useful things," he remarked casually.

Cordelia turned a page absent-mindedly. "It's just so hard to concentrate," she said. "Angel's all alone."

"He's not alone," said Wesley. "He has dozens of vampires with him."

But the look on Doyle's face showed that he understood her meaning.


	8. The Rite of Merkoris

"I feel like I'm in bloody art class," said Spike, down on his hands and knees sketching out the diagram on the floor. He was not alone; the chalk for the pool cues had been broken into several small pieces and distributed amongst the group. Angel was standing on top of the bar to get the full effect and to shout directions when needed. "And I wish you wouldn't loom like that, Angelus. It's distracting me. Makes me want to rip your lungs out."

"It's Angel."

"Angelus, Angel…whatever!" Spike growled, standing abruptly and tossing his chalk on the ground. "It's finished, so get off the high ground and come mingle with your friends in low places."

"Take your positions," said Angel. He jumped down silently and began adjusting the positioning of various vampires, joining their hands with the vampires next to them, across from them, and behind them in an intricate pattern. Spike was half watching, and half reading over the incantations again. At last, Angel had worked his way through the crowd to the center of the pattern, directly across from Spike. It was the position requiring the greatest strength of will and courage of heart. Doubts rose in Angel's mind as he looked at his old enemy. Then Spike reached his free hand across the space, and Angel took it and felt a vitality and power that he had known he would find, but that he had not expected to find on his side.

"The forces from without endanger the force within," Angel began. "The danger without becomes the danger within. We unite to repulse a common enemy. We have no differences; we are the same. The enemy has made us one." The incantation continued in a language long forgotten, the language of a people long forgotten, and distinctions of all kinds melted as the assembled life-forces poured their collective energy through to the center of the pattern, to the two who had the least reason to join together in any pursuit, and who for this moment chose to forget.

The door gave way. The attention of the participants on the outer edges of the pattern was shattered, but it was too late. From the center came the final words of incantation.

* * *

No one could explain the screams. Nor could they explain the sudden influx of mentally and physically exhausted patients to hospitals across the city. The people who made half-hearted attempts to investigate were told not to waste their time. It was best to pretend that nothing had happened. The unwise few who dared to report demon possessions carried the burden of their lapse in judgment for the rest of their lives—except for those who made their way to Angel Investigations, where they found four people who were more than willing to listen.

* * *

Wesley was packing up his books when Angel walked out of the inner office the evening after the successful completion of the Rite of Merkoris. He started guiltily when he saw Angel.

"What are you doing?" Angel rarely wasted time getting to the point.

"Well, I…I thought perhaps now that Doyle has returned, I should return to my old profession of, um, rogue demon-hunting. That is, you seem to have all the staff you need, and…."

"You're afraid that four will be a crowd?" asked Angel.

"Not exactly a crowd," said Wesley, passing a book from one hand to the other, "but you all seem to fit together so well, and I…."

"We still need you, Wesley," Angel insisted. "You've become part of the 'fit' of this organization, too."

"I suppose there is strength in numbers," Wesley acquiesced rather hesitantly. He put the book down on the table.

"Besides," said Angel, "Cordelia and Doyle don't make an exceptional research department."

Wesley smiled. "Well I know it."

"So you'll stay?"

"Yes. When you put it that way... Yes, of course I will."

Doyle and Cordelia entered. "Forgot my car keys," Cordelia explained, heading for her desk.

"Stalkin' Cordelia," Doyle offered as his reason for being there. "You're here late, aren't you, Wes?"

"I needed to get some research in."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Doyle. "Personally, I would never…." His face twitched, and he put his hands to his head.

"Doyle?" said Angel.

He screamed. Cordelia winced and bit her lip. He dropped to the ground and closed his eyes, pressing his fists against his forehead. Cordelia ran to him, went down on her knees and put her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly as he rocked back and forth. And then it was over. His shaking hand found hers and squeezed them firmly. She rested her head on his and sighed in relief.

"Are you all right? What was that?" exclaimed Wesley.

"A vision," said Doyle and Cordelia in unison.

"You're getting visions, too?" asked Wesley.

Doyle looked up at Cordelia, who shook her head. "No, I'm getting visions, alone," he said.

"How is that possible?" asked Wesley. "We thought the link had been passed to Cordelia."

"He was," said Angel, looking at Doyle. "You _are_ the link."

"I'm afraid it must be non-transferable," Doyle said. "Which is good in a way, because I wouldn't have wanted Cordelia to have to suffer this forever…but…oh, blast!"

Wesley tossed Cordelia her bottle of pain medication. She handed it to Doyle, who promptly swallowed eight pills without asking for water.

"Oh!" said Wesley, and stopped when Doyle glared at him.

With the help of Cordelia, Doyle pulled himself to his feet. "Diwraq," he said. "East L.A. somewhere. After a pretty blond nightclub singer who performs on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bit of spiritual blackmailing going on, I think."

Angel nodded. "Thanks."

"That's much clearer than most of Cordelia's visions," Wesley said appreciatively.

"Hey, I was still getting used to it," protested Cordelia. "And the visions weren't coming from me, really, so they were probably all muffled."

"If you need me, I'll be at the pub," said Doyle. "Which is also where I'll be if fortune is kind and you _don't_ need me."

"Can you taste anything?" asked Cordelia. "You're sort of a vampire now, remember. You don't have to do the whole food-ingesting thing."

"Right," said Doyle, frowning. He shook his head. "I've gotta go anyway, princess. I need the comforting feel of a glass in my hand."

"I'll come with you." Doyle looked at her quizzically. "I have sympathy pains," she said defensively.

"Come on, then." He grinned at her and took her hand. "I'll teach you all the words to 'Danny Boy.'"

* * *

He still felt his spirit soar when he heard her laugh.


End file.
